


A Softly Creeping Twilight

by Maewn



Series: We are not the heroes [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Diary/Journal, Gen, Lotta OCs wandering around in here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 06:39:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15042971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maewn/pseuds/Maewn
Summary: The Journal excerpt of Hjalti Iron-beard, in the service of Lord Theon Saakar, about a particular host on a journey to Ivarstead in months following the death of High King Torygg and the beginning of Skyrim’s Civil War.





	A Softly Creeping Twilight

_[The Journal excerpt of Hjalti Iron-beard, in the service of Lord Theon Saakar, about a particular host on a journey to Ivarstead in months following the death of High King Torygg and the beginning of Skyrim’s Civil War]_

4E 12th First Seed 

The roads southwards have been quite hard on my lord and it was nearing dusk when we passed through the warm hot springs that lie south of Windhelm.

How anyone manages to travel these roads regularly I have no idea, but merchants and ware-sellers do, and I cannot fathom it, as the smell of sulfur and other unmentionables often permeate the air.

The scent does little to ease my lord’s discomfort and he dislikes traveling so far from Markarth, but we have business in Ivarstead and must head this way to avoid those bandits near the border.

I had feared that we would be forced to set up camp again but as the sun began to set, we heard singing from the road ahead. Or rather I should say just off the road.

For there was a quaint little home, built in the style of the Dunmer into the rock, plants and trees almost camouflaging it from sight.

I called a halt to our retinue and rode further so as to better see the house.

A young man was there, singing merrily as he tilled earth in a large garden, already filled with many plants whose names remained a mystery to me.

“Good evening,” I called.

“Good evening,” the young man replied. “Traveling to Riften?”

“Ivarstead,” I said.

“You’ve a long way to go then,” the young man said, and I could see then that he was an elf. He was tall, pale blond of hair and with green eyes the color of pale emerald. He dressed simply, and I saw no jewelry on him save a knotted bronze torc about his throat.

“Would it be possible to ask for lodging for my lord?” I asked. “He is ill from travel and we’ve little wish to stay out on the road for another night.”

The elf frowned and set aside his tools. “I cannot give you an answer at this moment, for this house is my lady mistress’s and I am not at liberty to open her home to strangers. But I will ask her and return with her answer.”

“Very well,” I said and watched him vanish into the house.

He returned moments later, and a rather striking woman followed him. She was a Breton, with dark black hair, neatly braided and coiled at the back of her head, with sharp grey eyes. She had two scars, faded with age at the top of her left cheekbone. She wore a dark blue dress, made in the pattern of the monks that live in the far mountains of High Rock, and wore a simple circlet of silver and a golden torc about her neck. A ring of silver inset with a ruby decorated her left hand and a golden ring inset with an emerald sat on her right hand.

She studied me, and I could see no sign of how old she might be, guessing in her late twenties perhaps.

“You wish for lodging for the evening?” she asked at length, her voice rich and warm.

“We have coin, lady, and would not trespass on your hospitality without paying for our stay. My lord grows ill from the travel and we do not wish to stay out in the open when we might have lodging,” I said.

She considered, casting her keen gaze to the sky which was rapidly darkening.

“How many are in your party?” she inquired.

“Five, lady,” I replied.

She nodded, beckoning her servant forward, and he bent down so she could murmur in his ear.

“As you say, Mistress,” he said and returned to the house.

“Emrys will prepare a room for you,” the lady said, “Two hundred septims will be sufficient enough price for meal and lodging for your company this evening.”

“Thank you, lady,” I said, hardly daring to believe our good fortune. Two hundred septims was extremely generous, and wholly unexpected, though I think that our lord would have paid double that if the lady had asked, so glad would he be to shelter out inside for the night.

I told my lord of the lady’s offer and we eagerly delivered the septims to her hands. She smiled and turned towards the house. “Please, do come in. The night will be cold before long.”

The house was unlike anything I had ever seen. It seemed as if we’d stepped into another world completely such was the change in scenery.

Trees stood all around us, in varying shades of gold and red. It was like an autumn grove inside a house. All around lamps of various shades and hues hung from trees, and from the far distant ceiling hung a great globe of wrought metal that glowed as if lit by some enormous fire.

A brook ran below our feet, vanishing under an outcropping of rock and its merry gurgling filled the air. Somewhere ahead, the sound of voices murmuring came to our ears.

“Forgive me lady,” I said, belatedly realizing that I had not asked for our kind hostess’s name. “I do not know your name.”

“I am Lady Morgyn Gaerhart,” she said, not breaking stride up the small walkway towards a larger cluster of trees. “Come along now, the cook will have something made up soon and I’m certain you will be hungry after your journey.”

The scent of roasting meat made our weary legs move and we found ourselves in a small dining area, where beside was a kitchen of sorts, where a tiny Bosmer woman stirred a pot over a fire while another girl turned a roasting spit.

Emrys appeared at the edge of hallway leading further in and walked to his mistress. “The rooms are ready, mistress.”

“Excellent,” Lady Gaerhart said, smiling. She caressed his cheek as she turned away, fingers lingering against his prominent cheekbones and the elf smiled.

Clearly, the two were intimates of some nature.

The food and the wine were delicious after weeks of eating salted beef and stale bread. Lady Gaerhart provided provisions for the next few days after hearing of how hard our own supplies were.

“I cannot provide much more than that,” she said, smiling. “We cannot starve ourselves here, you see.”

“Of course, lady,” I said, “Already you have been so generous to us.”

“It is rare we have company,” the lady said. “Emrys and the other servants are here, but travelers bring us news and tales to entertain.”

“I’m afraid there is little good news, lady,” I said, “For war has begun to brew. Ulfric and the Empire’s forces have clashed at the border of Whiterun Hold.”

“Ah,” the lady said, sipping at her wine. “We had seen the troops moving and wondered.”

“Will you not tell us of yourself, lady?” I asked, perhaps a bit boldly. “How did you come to such a magnificent home?”

“I am originally from High Rock, born into a large family,” she said after a moment. “I moved here when I was…eighteen?” she turned to Emrys who stood at her right hand.

“Nineteen, mistress,” he said softly.

“Ah, yes, nineteen,” she said, smiling. “Emrys has a better memory than mine.”

“If you say so, mistress,” Emrys said, “surely then it must be true.”

The lady laughed, bright and merry. “As to answer your second question,” she said, looking to me again. “I inherited this home. It was my great-grandfather’s and he passed it to me upon his death. It is quite lovely. We’ve lived here a number of years and hopefully will continue to do so for many more still.”

“I pray it is so, lady,” I replied gravely for the thought had arisen in my mind of this place reduced to ash and its laughing, joyous lady to blank and terrible stillness and the sudden sharpness of the image in my mind made my heart shudder.

“Come,” the lady said, noticing my somber mood, “Eat and drink, for the night is young and hearts should be merry among friends.”

A lute began to play from someplace beyond the brook and the sound made my companions smile and we ate and drank and enjoyed our hostess’s company.

We retired at last to a room made up with thick mattresses of fresh straw and thick coverlets and quilts. I do not think I’ve ever slept on such a bed or will again.

I slept well enough, deep and dreaming, though some of my companions complained of ill dreams even if they woke well rested as I.

Lady Gaerhart was awake when I rose for breakfast and she wore a robe of deepest red, and her torc lay about her slender neck, her feet clad in dainty slippers. Her hair was unbound and fell about her shoulders in waves of shimmering ebony as she sat at the table with Emrys at her side.

“Good morning,” she said, noticing my arrival. “There is food aplenty for breakfast. Please eat.”

She looked brighter, her cheeks pink and it seemed to me that there was a glow of health about her though I could not pinpoint as to why. She accepted a steaming cup of a dark tea from Emrys and sipped from it with evident delight.

“Thank you,” I said, seating myself and we passed the morning in quiet conversation and it was not long before we gathered our packs and bid our hostess farewell.

“Be safe on the road,” she said, “There are worse things than bandits nowadays.”

“Thank you, lady,” I said. “And may your home be safe as well.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

We have not yet had cause to return to that part of Eastmarch, but I do wonder how the Lady and her household have been, if they still live. I pray that they do for they seemed good folk and generous hosts.


End file.
